An Open Letter to the CEO of Hinge on the App's Failure to Get Me Virtually Laid
by Rachel A.G. Gilman
Mr. McLeod:
I’ve noticed that the women on your app are putting out a multi-course menu from the Ritz. The men, meanwhile, have pulled an expired box of Ritz crackers from the backseat of their cars. You must help bridge this gap.
I. First, stop the advertising campaign that you are the dating app designed to delete. You cannot honestly believe that because it is a horrendous business model. Don’t you worry people will eventually realize it’s easier to focus on themselves? Bumble knows this, hence why they added a networking feature. Take notes.
II. Remove racists and racial fetishists. Start with the people who utilize the app’s ethnicity preferences. Actually, abolish that feature altogether.
III. Remove anyone who lists something about The Office in their profile. It has been seven years—it is no longer a valid personality type.
IV. Too many male users blend together: simplify. There are Johns with “h’s” and Jons without “h’s” and Jonathans that are contemplating becoming Jons to seem cool. Dismiss them. The Stevens/Stephens and the Brians/Bryans will follow.
V. Offer photography packages for men not trying to be actors (who already have glamor shots). It is doing no one any good to see a handful of blurry selfies in bathrooms, snapshots from drunk college parties, or group photos at the wedding of their one friend who got married, included in a man’s profile with the hope women will assume Hot Friend is the owner.
VI. Develop a virtual assistant to edit bios. A Microsoft Word Clippy-esque character. You could use that fluffy, characterized version of your logo that is always dying in commercials. It should suggest things like: when the answer to, “Do you do drugs?” switches from sometimes to yes because a profile photo features cocaine; or when the pet peeves are listed as “MSNBC, Rachel Maddow, self-pity”, so the political view wouldn’t be moderate, but rather conservative.
VII. Upgrade user questions. Suggestions: “How do you think the world would be different if it became common practice to salute ducks?” or, “In our post-apocalyptic commune, which role would you assume?” or, “If there were no other consequences, would you consider trading in your sibling for $1 million?”
VIII. Reinstate matches being largely based on mutual Facebook friends. It stopped me from stalking through my “People you may know…” to try to guess who was still updating their profile, and who out of that group is still single.
IX. Create an acknowledgment for when people stumble upon the profiles of those they actually know. This is not Tinder, where it might be a humorous gesture to Super Like a photo of your IRL contact. This is fucking Hinge: the place where we are taking this shit seriously in order to find a deep, emotional connection. And if I already know them, I have tried, and it probably isn’t going to happen.
X. Your “Most Compatible” feature is flawed. You claim an algorithm helps to pair members most likely to connect, but it is instead a daily reminder that the best I can find is the tourist stuck in the states looking for a visa, or the physical trainer needing clients whom I have already passed on twice. Look at how the department stores do it. You wouldn’t send a person that has been browsing red, patent leather heels a suggestion for orthopedic sneakers, right?
XI. Require all individuals who exchange mobile numbers to input contact details into their phones. If the potential hook-up happens to become famous, it will be nice to have the information to request stuff. At the very least, I will be able to follow their Venmo activities, wondering why John/Jon/Jonathan keeps paying Brian/Bryan back for burritos.
XII. Inform men that women compare pick-up lines. If they use one like, “You’ve got a name I could shout across a three-floor family home while I’m angrily looking for my shoes,” they can be assured the recipient has already put the message in a group chat.
XIII. Allow women to more easily mark spam. I’m not talking about the people pretending to be Happy Meals or 90s cartoon characters. Those weirdos have personality. I’m talking about the man who is a manager of Wal-Mart telling me how much he wants to pay for my shopping spree, or the guy that keeps sending “Would you rather?” questions, then adds me on LinkedIn. They are single for good reason.
XIV. Implement an alert like the kind Netflix has to check-in if a person is still swiping. Ask: “You really do not see anything you like?” or, “Maybe you’re too picky,” or, “I think you’re just horny.” This will prevent someone from going through so many profiles that, when they see a photo of two people, they hope the dude on the left is single, not realizing the dude on the left is Paul Rudd in glasses. Limit the number of passes we are allowed, too. Even Candy Crush forces users to wait after breaking five hearts.
XV. Give users the option to officially ghost someone. A little animation should appear and tell me that the man who had an idea for the perfect episode of Gilmore Girls no longer wants to communicate. I’m not invested enough for an explanation, just to make sure no one has died.
I anticipate your response as I continue my quest to find a warm body when it’s once again safe to touch strangers.
Not Yours,
Rachel
